The Third First Time
by Mrs Dionysius O'Gall
Summary: Luke's POV on starting over again, for the third time.
1. All Talk, No Action

If it's your third time starting a relationship with the same person, is it the same relationship or do you really have to count all the firsts again? 

It's a subject that really confused Luke once he and Lorelai found their way back to each other. This is the first time he's ever been in a third-time relationship, after all.

In many ways, it reminds him of the space-time continuum: it's best not to think about it too much.

So, he decides that he'll play it safe. A man can't go wrong commemorating special dates and giving a woman, especially one like Lorelai, gifts. He's still embarrassed by what happened at the Vineyard, but the light in her eyes as he gave her the necklace at Rory's party went a long way to making things right.

But when he did take the time to think about it, it was almost like they were starting with a clean slate. Rory had discretely let him know that Lorelai had disposed of every item that reminded her of him after the ultimatum. He'd been crestfallen, but oddly enough, felt somewhat better when Rory told him that in the past, Lorelai had merely kept such items boxed up. But with him, she'd been so devastated that she'd literally wiped all traces of him from her life.

Devastated, right...a fine way to show me, he thought, by marrying someone else. Luke quickly shook his head. If this third time was going to work, he'd have to man it up and truly forgive her. And himself.

But other than the occasional lapse, the third time was not so bad. So, he thought, this is what they meant by "it's just like riding a bike." This whole re-acquainting business wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be.

Lorelai had told him that she wanted to start their relationship off "right". Trouble was, Luke had no idea what "right" was. She said she wanted it to be with him, of course, but beyond that, they were "just friends". What the hell was that supposed to mean? But they plunged right in. Doing the "relationship thing" was a lot of work, but since they'd been friends once before, it felt familiar.

And they talked and talked about their relationship. Post-ultimatum. Post-diner-destruction. Post-her-sleeping-with-'him'. Post-marriage-to-'him'. Post-divorce-from-'him'. Post-car-buying. Post-Rory's-off-after-graduation. So far, being "just friends" meant that this third-time around relationship was a whole lot of talking, with a generous helping of hugs and kisses.

Yet somehow, for the moment, it felt right to Luke, though he longed for much much more. Lorelai was, as always, a perpetual talker and he, well not. Funny thing was, during the time he was adjusting to his newfound daughter, she didn't really talk to him all that much. And hence their problems. Luke never imagined that Lorelai would be the type to clam up when she really should be giving someone, namely him, a good ass-kicking, but she sure fooled him.

But they'd gone through all the stuff they went through, and Rory graduated and Luke made the tent for the rainy party, and Lorelai kissed him at the same time that he kissed her. And she came to him after Rory'd been safely delivered into the hands of the Transportation Security Administration. And he came to her the first time there were problems with April at camp.

Talk. Talk. Talk. Luke and Lorelai. All talk, and well, no action.

It wasn't until a little more than a week after Rory's Bon Voyage party that they really started it all up again, the whole 'relationship' enchilada.


	2. Not Easy

Lorelai had been teasing him relentlessly about taking her out to dinner on a proper 'first date.' He'd responded with the observation that he'd already done that twice. Her cheery mood immediately became wistful and sad, but the diner was busy with summer tourists, so he had to settle for plying her with extra whipped cream that day. It was wedding season at the Inn and tourist season in general, and so both were unusually busy. 

But that evening, soon after he closed the diner, Luke heard the jingle of the door. He hadn't heard it late at night for over a year, so at first, the loud ringing breaking the early-night silence rudely jangled his nerves--until he realized who his late-evening visitor was. He didn't need to look up to know that it was Lorelai: the clack-clack of those sexy but ridiculous heels she often wore to work crisply moved across the diner floor, and then her voice, told him all he needed to know.

"Coffee?"

"We're closed!" he unintentionally yelled. "Can't you read the sign?"

"Whoa. Mr. Cranky-Pants is in the house."

Luke had a good excuse for his crankiness; besides the long work day, it was just plain tough being "just friends" with a woman whose body he not only thoroughly wanted, but also had intimate knowledge of. He was well aware of what they were missing in their relationship. Back when he was just carrying around the horoscope in his wallet, he could only guess at what being with the woman he loved would be like. Now he knew. And that was so much harder.

"Just checking up on you, my friend," Lorelai quietly ventured.

Damn, her voice was reaching regions of his body that had been dormant since...since she left him that horrible night.

He pulled himself together and greeted her with a tentative kiss. They immediately fell into their old familiar banter mode: something that continued for a few minutes. What might pass for insults between other persons was merely extended verbal foreplay for them. Luke found her incessant talking refreshing: he had not only missed her physical presence in his life, but their give-and-take even more.

Nevertheless, the next half-hour or so of banter was inconsequential. They retraced old and familiar ground, feeling quite comfortable. He asked her why she had dropped in. She said she was bored with no Rory, and Paul Anka was asleep--he's an early to bed type of dog--so she figured she'd walk over here to keep him company. As if he wasn't an early-to-bed kind of guy, he reminded her.

"Ah, but I happen to know that you have no early deliveries tomorrow!" she triumphantly proclaimed. "Oh wait...the schedule could have changed..." Her face was immediately crestfallen.

"No, nothing's changed...in that department." And she smiled again.

So their banter continued. He chastised her for demanding coffee at such a late hour; she half-heartedly protested, and he continued to give her both a hard time and more caffeine. He scolded her when she poured a second cup and warned her of the dire consequences of staying awake all night; she winked and said that that effect might have its distinct advantages.

He was thrilled to have her there, and she knew it. Just like old times. Good friends.

Oh. Except for just kissing. And except for the necklace he'd given her. And except for the dreams he had each night, which required extra-cold showers.

Lorelai looked gorgeous, leaning over the counter, babbling some nonsense about the inn. He'd never tell her in so many words, but he hung on every word. He drank them in after being deprived for so long. She'd moved on to discussing their relationship, wondering if they were like magnets, inevitably drawn toward each other, or like the moths flitting outside the diner lights. She paused to finger her necklace, the one he'd given her, and decided that she'd rather be a magnet than a moth. Because moths get burned, even the third time around.

And Luke thought, that even the third time around, there comes a time in every relationship, when just being friends--good, best friends--isn't going to cut it any longer. Just like that night at the Inn three years before, Luke had had enough.

He walked around to the front of the counter, took the coffee cup out of her protesting hands, and kissed her.

Thoroughly. And for good measure, he pushed his hips against her stomach, demonstrating his desire for her. He was all for full disclosure.

As they briefly parted, he looked into her eyes. He could fairly say that they were tinged with wonder, and pleasure, but also with a hint of fear.

He took a step back. He didn't want to push her into anything she wasn't ready for, especially after she'd explained the circumstances of her marriage in France.

But then she reached for him, and kissed him, and she moaned.

He again stepped back and looked deep into her eyes. This next time, the hint of fear was gone.

Good.

"Lorelai," he managed to say, "This, tonight, right now, is our third first date. Can't stand to wait..."

"Oh thank god," she quickly said, throwing her arms around his neck. "I've wanted to jump you so many times since...since...Rory's party."

He kissed her again, as his hands dared roam over her body for the first time in so, so long. He nuzzled her neck, and began to trail a path of alternating kisses and licks down her neck, over to her shoulder and then to the edge of the neckline of her pullover.

"Lorelai, I want you..." he whispered as he trailed kisses along the edge of her top.

"Luke."

He loved the way she said his name. She sounded happy.

"Let's make this a great third first date," she breathily requested.

Something was wrong with Luke, for he could not move.

"Upstairs," she clarified. Sometimes, monosyllables were best.

He nodded, and they made their way upstairs as she continued chattering between random gropings.

"I'll have you know that I am not easy..."

"I don't do this on just any third first date..."

"Don't think that the coffee is going to count as a first date. You're gonna have to take me somewhere..."

Luckily, the apartment door was unlocked.


	3. Their Third First Time

"Off." She resumed her monosyllabic ways as she whipped off his cap and tugged at his flannel.

"Ladies first," he informed her as he turned to her after locking the door.

He shrugged out of the flannel and then happily and to her chagrin, slowly removed her clothing as she caressed whatever she could get her hands on. When he was done, she went straight to disrobing him.

"Wow." That was her, monosyllabic again.

But not for long.

"You, mister, are hot. Hotter than ever." She leaned against him and traced each tattoo with her fingers.

"And this," she picked up his discarded flannel, "you have no idea how much I missed these." She rubbed the shirt all over her body to Luke's delight as he maneuvered her towards his bed. "I missed you so, so much..." she informed him.

Her hands reached out, and oh, god. She wasted no time whatsoever, stroking and squeezing him and it had been so long since it was anyone's hands other than his, and even longer since it'd been anyone but her and she was the only one he wanted to...so sweet yet so wicked all at the same time...Oh, God. He was not a praying man but a deity was definitely being thanked.

"Lorelai," he managed to eke out, "Missed you so much..."

"Show me," and she laughed.

He looked at her, grateful that she was not being pretentious, and gently pushed her down on the bed.

For a moment, he leaned over her, studying her like a menu, remembering all his favorites and finally settling on a first course.

He positioned her hips so that they were raised, and she gasped.

He breathed.

She started moaning in anticipation and that had him practically at the point of no return.

A few minutes of his ministrations, and she was the one invoking deities, telling him over and over how much she missed him, missed "this", missed them, missed the apartment and the diner and his pie and oh how she missed just him.

As Luke heard the mattress creak, a smile formed on his lips and he become even more inspired as she grabbed fingers-full of his hair and raked her nails across his scalp. Words now failed her, and her moans were louder and her breath came faster and then her moans changed into an outright cry as she reassured him that this third time was definitely the charm.

After a year without practice, a man might feel somewhat insecure, especially when his woman has gone and married another man, so it really helped his confidence that he'd rendered the woman he loved--never really stopped loving--incapable of coherent thought.

And without pausing to let her catch her breath, he moved on to the second course. He was poised above her, and she'd somewhat regained her composure.

"Luke."

Again, she was the monosyllabic one, but this time, her "Luke" conveyed insecurity.

"Do you love me?" Her voice was now a whisper.

If she only knew that he'd never stopped. Not really. Not ever. He made a mental note to let her know.

Looking into her eyes, he settled next to her side and cradled her in his arms.

"I do," he told her with sincerity.

He saw more than one tear in her eye.

She continued. "You put on the blue hat."

"See," he quipped, "there you go. Wouldn't wear it if I didn't...love you."

He wasn't sure, didn't know what the protocol was here. Should he ask her if she loved him? Of course she loved him, she'd told the whole damn town. And the way she'd been looking at him--he just knew. And then he heard her voice from when they went on that wretched trip to the Vineyard. 'Sometimes I just need to hear it.'

"I love you, Lorelai," he reassured her as he stroked the side of her face. He was well aware that aside from Rory, he was the only person to ever see her so vulnerable and needy, and he would be protective of her vulnerability.

A bright smile broke out on her face. "I love you, too, Luke. I just...because of what happened...you had to wear the black hat..."

Lorelai shuddered.

Luke stifled a chuckle. Her shudder reminded him of her reaction to his grandmother's bedroom set.

He noticed another tear, and kissed it away.

"You already apologized, Lorelai. In the hay maze."

If he'd been on a witness stand, he would have to admit that he was still confused by everything that happened to cause her to leave him, but now that he had her again, he was not going to question things. They had found their way back to each other, regained their friendship, and were now in bed, together, loving each other.

"Luke."

This time, his name was infused with notes of "I want you, now," so he started kissing her again, all over. It might be their third first time, but she was all new again to him as she melted into him, and for the first time all over again, they were going to make love and have their third first time. 


	4. Really like Riding a Bike

When they were done, all he knew was that yes, it really was like riding a bike, and definitely, she was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Her hair was all over the place and even though her make-up was smudged, she looked so beautiful and vulnerable. His hand lightly stroked her breasts, with one of her hands guiding him. 

"Have I told you how happy I am that we're back to us?" She finally was able to put more than one word together.

He smiled, words failing him.

But she looked serious, like she needed to hear more.

"When you came back into the diner, I suspected...and when we kissed the night of Rory's party, I knew."

She smiled. "Thank you, Luke."

"I should be thanking you. This was...you are...wonderful."

"No," she laughed, and no sound ever sounded as sweet to him. "Not for the sex--though it was great. Great reunion sex. Fabulous third first-time sex." She took his hand and placed a soft kiss in the palm. "But you were there for me when I finally got my act together."

He was quiet for a minute, and Lorelai was worried that she'd said the wrong thing. He placed a reassuring kiss on her shoulder. She babbled on, true to form. "I mean, you could have dated some other crazy woman and gotten married too and had kids or...moved off to New Mexico or called me a crazy woman and never talked to me again..."

In the past, he'd have shut her up with a kiss on the mouth.

Tonight, he let her go on.

When she finally regained her breath, he tried to reassure her. "Not waiting for you, that was never an option."

"But I hurt you. A lot. More than I've ever hurt anyone, and I didn't give you a chance. I ruined our second time."

"Yes," he quietly acknowledged.

"And it was such a petty thing to do. You didn't hurt me on purpose."

"What's done is done." He waited a moment, then added, "Hay bale apologies. Let's agree that those are enough?"

She nodded, smiled and cuddled against him for a few long moments, tracing shapes on his back.

"Luke?" She was the first to break this latest silence. Big surprise.

He responded, sleepily, "Uh huh?"

"Would...would kids still be nice?"

Before he could answer, she continued. "I mean, there are so many reasons for us to not have a kid. You have April and Rory's all done and grown. And who wants to get all big again? Plus you'd probably make my life a living hell and make me eat tofu and vegetables and fruit--though I do like apples when I'm pregnant...Did you know that? And oh, the diapers! Do you know how many diapers are needed for one kid? Well, let me tell you, Sookie knows. And..."

He laughed, then answered, "Kids would be nice." He kissed her again. "But not necessary."

"True," she said. "But..."

"But?" Luke prompted.

"I love you, Luke..."

"Nothing makes me happier than knowing you are happy. And if having our child will make you happy..."

She whispered something. He couldn't quite hear her, so he asked her to repeat it.

"Our child..." she said with wonder, "You said 'our' child."

"I meant what I said the night you proposed..."

"But?"

"But we have a ways to go..." But he hastened to add, "But I promise you, that if you want to have a baby, I'll be there, all in, Lorelai." He propped himself up on an elbow. "You really want this, don't you?"

"You have no idea how much, Luke. And now that I've seen how you are with April, and with Doula..." She giggled. "God, Luke, how could you let them give her that name?"

"Well...I tried..." Luke chuckled, as he settled back on the bed and held Lorelai close to him.

As their bodies settled into drowsiness, he drew her even closer to him, her head in the crook of his neck and a hand protectively over her heart.

"Luke?"

"Hmmm?"

"I took six weeks off from the Inn."

"Uh huh."

"To go on my trip with Rory..."

"And now she's gone..." he sympathized.

"Would be a shame to waste it."

He continued to listen.

"Especially since you planned to take your new boat out..."

Realization dawned on him, but he let her play her game.

"I like boats."

"I thought you had a Titanic complex..."

"I do. Like boats."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"Since when?"

"You still have my cute yellow boots?"

"Maybe."

"Would be a shame to waste a new boat, cute boots, and all that time off."

"You've got a point there."

"Please, Luke, please?" she wheedled.

"Damn it woman, haven't you had enough tonight?"

"Luke!"

He finally relented, chuckling. "You want to go on a boat trip."

"With you, Einstein."

"I don't know. Seems you'd have a helluva a lot of baggage to bring on that boat."

"I'm traveling light these days."

"You sure about that? I mean, you want a baby and a boat trip..."

"I finally know what I want, Luke," she assured him.

"Well then. Let's talk about it tomorrow." He placed a kiss on her head. "Make some plans."

The last words he heard as he drifted off to sleep were, "Talk. Tomorrow."

Oh, she would talk, alright.

And he would love every word.

Because her silence was no longer an option.

The early morning found them still together in Luke's bed, wrapped in his orange plaid sheets. With his sleeping Lorelai nestled against his chest, Luke rhythmically stroked her hair as the late morning light filtered into his apartment. It was the perfect day to plan a boat trip.


End file.
